Wilt
by caroandlyn
Summary: Forced by Akashi to infiltrate Seirin Dance Troupe and steal their ace dancer, ballet dancer Kuroko Tetsuya discovers that there is much more to the unassuming dance studio than meets the eye. [Kuroko/Kagami]


" _Welcome to Tokyo International Airport. Local time is one thirty-three p.m., and the current temperature is thirty-four degrees_ _Celsius, with an expected high of thirty-seven and a low of twenty-eight._ "

The man crossed his legs impatiently, ignoring the droning quality of the flight attendant's voice as the plane rolled to a slow halt. He made for an imposing figure, even in the spacious seats of first class; the base of his neck rested against the top of the headrest when he leaned back, a laughable comparison to the almost pitifully small proportions of the woman in the seat beside him.

The intercom crackled with static, signalling the end of the announcement. The man looked out the window, seemingly unconcerned, as he took in this country of cold iron and steel, so foreign and yet so familiar.

* * *

.

.

 **W**

 **i**

 **l**

 **t**

.

.

0o0o0o0o0o1

.

Kuroko sneezed.

Momoi handed him a tissue, rubbing his back consolingly. "Tetsu-kun, you okay?" It was a humid summer day, the air conditioning in the studio turned on full blast, filling the room with excessive relief. Outside, the lot was empty, a testament to the heat; it was not unusual for Tokyo to reach such extremes in mid-summer, but there were few willing to withstand the afternoon sun.

"I am fine, Momoi-san," Kuroko said reflexively. He accepted the proffered tissue, dabbing lightly at his nose. The bench they were currently seated on was located closest to the air vents, giving them the full brunt of cold air; most of the people sitting near them had taken to wearing light jackets.

He briefly entertained the thought of getting one himself from the trunk of his car, before deciding that the effort of braving the outdoors in such treacherous heat would not be worth the effort. His legs, too, protested the idea of moving, just beginning to sore from the strenuous regime that they had done earlier in the morning; his muscles, toned as they were from years of ballet, were nothing in the face of one of Akashi's inventive routines.

"Don't let your guard down just because it's summer," Momoi warned, her gaze on the mirror as she pinned back a few strands of pink hair that had fallen out of her bun. She bent forwards, the bony curves of her spine clearly defined underneath her leotard. "You could be seriously sick without having a clue. They say that's easiest to catch a cold when you're least expectant of it."

"Of course," Kuroko humoured.

Momoi hummed in neutral affirmation, seemingly satisfied with her hair as she turned her attention back to her clothing. She flexed her toes, frowning as she adjusted the lacing on her pointe shoes, and then subsequently smoothed out a few wrinkles on her leotard and tights. "Tetsu-kun, do you think that I've put on some weight the past week?"

"I—"

"Kuroko-senpai!" a voice yelled, interrupting their conversation, and, luckily, stalling his answer. Kuroko turned his head, raising an eyebrow when he spotted one of the newer interns rushing out of the office, face flushed and eager. "Akashi-sama wanted to see you. It's for something urgent."

He glanced back at Momoi, as if searching for some kind of approval.

"Go ahead, Tetsu-kun," Momoi said, making a shooing motion. "Akashi-kun's much more important than me, after all." She winked, her hands folded beneath her chest, and bending down slightly so that the deep plunge of her leotard was _just_ aligned with the curves of her rather generous assets.

The intern blushed, a bright crimson color.

.

.

Akashi did not deign to greet him when he opened the door to the office, seemingly too engrossed in a thick manila file to notice Kuroko's presence. His mouth was carved into a permanent frown, the sharp angles of his jawline giving his face a stern feeling.

"Akashi-kun," Kuroko said, and Akashi lazily raised his head up at once, one golden iris reflecting the glint of the electric lights that hung above. He looked amused. "I believe you sent for me."

"Ah yes, Tetsuya. Come, sit." Akashi gestured to the chair across from him, which Kuroko sat in obligingly. He pulled out a paper from the file, pushing it lightly across the table so that it rested an exact inch from the edge. "Do you know what this is?"

Kuroko glanced at the page, frowning when he made out the small characters on the top. _Seirin Ballet Troupe Application Form_ , the title read, followed by a small black-and-white logo of a three pointed star inside of a hexagon.

 _Name of Applicant: Kagemachi Tetsunosuke._

 _Age: 19_

 _Sex: M_

 _Height: 168 cm_

 _Weight: 57 kg_

"You want me to infiltrate Seirin," Kuroko said monotonously, setting down the paper after he had scanned through the text. He purposefully ignored Akashi's bemused smile, keeping his face level. "Aren't you afraid they will recognize me?"

After all, despite his general low-key persona, there was a high likelihood that someone would remember him from a magazine interview or competition footage.

"Hair dye, colored contacts and glasses," Akashi said slowly, as if he were explaining something to a child. He crossed his fingers beneath his chin, raising an insipid eyebrow. "You'd be amazed at how often people overlook things they don't expect."

Kuroko tried to change the subject. "I thought that they were not good enough in your opinion to merit something to this extent."

"They aren't," Akashi said flippantly. "But they've recently recruited a famous Nisei dancer from America, Kagami Taiga. He's won multiple national competitions, and is well on the way to competing in internationals. Some say that he's on the same level as Daiki." His face remained neutral, but there was a clear sign of displeasure glinting in his eyes.

Akashi hated competition, Kuroko knew, and surmised that his assignment had something to do with removing the potential threat. Unfortunately for the person involved, people who sparked the older man's ire rarely ended up unscathed.

But nothing could have prepared him for the words that came next:

"I want you to join Seirin, and then convince him to join us," Akashi said. He opened the file again, pulling out a small photograph, dangling it tantalizingly in front of Kuroko's minutely surprised expression.

Kuroko examined the photograph, scrutinizing the candid shot. The man was tall, which was to be expected; and well built, going by the toned quality of his arms. His hair was dyed a jarring red, although black roots could be see growing back, and what could be seen of his eyes were the same scarlet shade as his hair. He looked more like one of the delinquents that frequented the Tokyo nightlife than a well-respected ballet dancer.

"He does look rather uncivilized, doesn't he, Tetsuya?" Akashi said, amused, as if he had read Kuroko's thoughts. "Oh well. When he signs in with us, we can easily change that."

"Akashi-kun sounds very confident that I will be able to convince him," Kuroko finally said after a moment of silence, setting the photo down. "How are you certain that he will listen to me?" He thought back to the last time he had been assigned a mission of this magnitude; it had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

"Oh, but he will," Akashi said, smiling. It was filled with malicious intent. Kuroko resisted the urge to shiver, instead leveling his own blank stare back. "After all, Tetsuya, _since when have I ever been wrong_?"

* * *

.

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

The studio for the Seirin Ballet Troupe was rather small, Kuroko thought, and yet comfortable at the same time. He peered through the glass doors, and, seeing nobody at the reception desk, quietly invited himself in.

There were a few posters and photos tacked onto a bulletin board hanging near the entrance. _Discipline Your Body, Discipline Your Mind_ , proclaimed a large banner, complete with a photograph of a leotard-clad dancer mid-leap. Kuroko leaned closer to the glass to examine a more modest photo of a smiling brown-haired girl posing with a large trophy, the plaque reading _AIDA RIKO_ _1st Place Ballet Division Girls 15-19_.

"Hey, kid," someone said from behind him. Kuroko turned around to see a lanky black-haired man watching him from the hallway, wearing a white T-shirt and black yoga pants. "I've never seen you here in these parts before."

"Oh," he said, too surprised at having been caught to think of an appropriate response. Had his drastic shift in appearance raised his presence so much? "I'm...—" he paused, scrambling to think of the name Akashi had assigned him. "—Kagemachi Tetsunosuke."

The man raised his eyebrows. "That's an impressive name you got there, Tetsunosuke-san. Like the Shinsengumi?"

"Call me Tetsu," Kuroko corrected automatically, and gave a brief nod, adjusting the bulky pair of fake black glasses he'd been given to wear. (If he heard the word Tetsunosuke one more time, he would murder Akashi in cold blood. The older man probably found it amusing to name Kuroko after somebody people weren't even sure were real. Almost like Kuroko himself.)

"Tetsu-san, then," the man said. "I'm Izuki Shun." He looked over Kuroko, as if evaluating him. "Are you one of the new rookies Riko was talking about earlier?"

"Riko?" Kuroko repeated blankly, glancing back to the picture of the brown-haired girl. She looked familiar, in the distantly familiar way he regarded fellow contestants in dance competitions. It wouldn't be too far-fetched if it turned out their connection was limited to some smaller ballet competition in Osaka; after all, he'd been in too many of those to count.

Izuki glanced at Kuroko, the corners of his mouth tilting downwards slightly the same way Midorima did whenever he thought something was amiss. "Yeah, don't you have to get evaluated by her before we accept you?"

Kuroko blinked, throat slightly dry with uneasiness, before suddenly relief flooded through his mind as he realized what the man was implying. "I haven't been accepted yet," he said, and dug into his bag to pull out the appropriate folder. "I... came here to apply to Seirin."

Izuki instantly relaxed. "Oh, that's good. I thought you were here to— that's not important. Anyway, I'll take these," he said, grabbing the folder from Kuroko's fingers. "Let me go get Riko. Here, why don't you follow me into one of the private rooms, and then we can evaluate your skill level."

Kuroko obediently trailed after the man through a pair of double doors marked _Members_ _Only_ , into a long hallway lined with picture frames of people in various dance poses. There was a noren at the end, which led to a smaller and more dimly lit hallway.

Izuki stopped at a small wooden door with a sign beside it that read _A3_ , giving a few sharp raps against the door. There was no response.

"Looks like this one's free," Izuki said, pulling out a lanyard with a ring of keys attached to it. He sorted through them until he found the key he wanted, pressing it into the keyhole and pushing. The door swung open with a low hum, the lights of the room turning on automatically as it did.

Kuroko surveyed the room with a critical eye. It was certainly a lot smaller than the private rooms he was used to in Teiko, perhaps only ten by twenty feet, but it seemed clean enough. A mirror covered the entire length of one wall, with ballet barres lining the other three walls, and there was a little rack and cabinet near the door presumably to place his things.

"We rent out these rooms to non-members sometimes," Izuki explained, "like freelance ballroom instructors or yoga teachers or the like. Our studio's too small to be afford entry in all those competitions otherwise, unlike Teiko or one of those other big ballet studios." He looked bitter when he talked about Teiko, although it was to be expected. Akashi's father, the wealthy CEO of a successful business conglomerate, sponsored the studio in Akashi's behalf and reduced their need for funding, which was something that many other studios lacked drastically.

"I see," Kuroko said noncommittally.

"Why don't you go ahead and stretch, then, Tetsu-san?" Izuki suggested, sounding a little unsure at Kuroko's reticence. "I'll go call Riko over in a bit." He opened the cabinet, revealing a neatly folded towel, two unopened bottles of water, and a small first aid kit inside. "Use this if you need to, though I assume you've already brought most of these already." He glanced approvingly at the bulky bag on Kuroko's shoulder.

"Thank you," Kuroko said, setting his bag on the hook. He tried for a smile, but it fell flat on his face, and by the time he returned to his normal expression Izuki had already gone and left anyway.

He took off the glasses, setting them over the cabinet, and pulled out a pair of ballet shoes from his bag. They were brand new, not the familiar black practice shoes he'd had for the past few years, and they felt foreign on his feet when he pulled them on. A little more digging procured him his bobby pin container, which he used to pin back the few strands of loose hair that always fell in his face when he danced.

He looked in the mirror. Without the glasses he looked more like himself, but it was still strange to see both his eyes and hair colored black. He looked... unremarkable. Not that he'd been any flashier before the contacts and hair dye, but now his appearance seemed duller, like he was just another mundane face in the crowd. He seemed older, too, and more serious. He could be any college student trying to enter a local dance studio. Whatever had made up Kuroko had disappeared, and now only Kagemachi remained.

.

.

He was stretching a leg over the barre when there was the sound of knocking. Kuroko hesitated for a moment, reaching across the barre to grab the glasses he'd set on the cabinet and shove them back onto his face, which was just enough time for whoever was at the door to insert the key and push it open.

"—we don't have the funds to accommodate another one," a woman's voice trailed into the room, sounding harried.

"Why don't we talk about this later," Izuki's voice said, stern and slightly exasperated, before he pushed his head through the opening of the door. "Okay, Tetsu-san, this is Riko, the owner of Seirin. She'll evaluate you."

The door pulled back even further, revealing a brown-haired woman carrying a clipboard under her arms. It was apparent that she was the same girl Kuroko had seen earlier on the bulletin board, although her hair was now in a short bob-cut that hung to her chin, and the baby fat had completely melted away from her face, giving her a mature feeling. She was dressed professionally, a dark blue coat over a white blouse and a shapely grey pencil skirt, and wore minimal makeup that highlighted the intensity of her brown eyes.

"You must be Kagemachi-san," Riko said, extending an arm to him. Kuroko took it, carefully surveying her; it was clear she was doing the same to him. The familiar feeling returned, tugging at the edges of his mind, although he brushed it aside. "I'm Aida Riko. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Kuroko said, reserved, and said nothing more. He met her eyes for a second before turning his gaze to the floor, locking onto the pair of soled black shoes she was wearing. He'd seen them used before for some jazz style ballet dances, although this was his first time seeing them in such close proximity; Akashi said that those kinds of dances were too crude to be associated with Teikou's name.

"Alright, then," Riko said, and seeing where Kuroko was looking, crinkled her eyes slightly in amusement. "Your application says that you've done ballet in your high school, but only traditional styles and modern. No jazz?"

Kuroko shook his head, thinking of his next words carefully. "My old teacher was a traditionalist, and didn't like the idea of jazz. He said it was... too modern." He wasn't lying, technically.

"Well, that's certainly going to change if you join us," Riko said with humor, before her eyes narrowed a little bit. "Your application doesn't mention any formal training though, Kagemachi-san."

Did she suspect him? "He wasn't a formal teacher," Kuroko improvised quickly. He scanned her face, trying to read her expression, although she looked impassive; she had an impressive poker face, almost on par with his own. "He was... an acquaintance of my dance coach." He tried to think of what else Akashi had written on his resume: Kagemachi Tetsunosuke had supposedly taken interest in dance as a child, although he hadn't thought of going professional until high school, when he joined his school's dance club. He had entered a few amateur ballet competitions with a female friend and won a few titles (with a few certificates procured by Akashi for good measure), although that was the scope of his experience.

"Alright, then," Riko said, seemingly uncaring, although there was something in her tone that made suggested she hadn't completely become unwary of him. "Why don't I evaluate you first. Can you take off your shirt?"

Kuroko blinked at the odd request, and Izuki took that time to clear his throat and explain. "Riko has incredible analyzing abilities," he said, and Kuroko suspected this wasn't the first time he'd been made to explain. "She can see your potential just by examining the muscles on your torso and legs."

"Ah," Kuroko said, taking in the information and storing away for where it could potentially become useful later. Akashi would most certainly be interested in her abilities, although he had no desire nor intention of reporting them to him.

He took off his shirt, a bulky white thing he'd bought for on sale in his local department sale. He itched to wear the more expensive tanks and tights he was more familiar and comfortable with wearing, although then it would be too apparent that he was no amateur to the business. It was things like this that annoyed Kuroko the most, although they were trivial matters that would be brushed aside as soon as he brought them up.

Riko paced in front of him, eyeing his torso with a clinical eye. She looked... disappointed, if Kuroko had to say the word. Almost if she'd expected more of him. Kuroko frowned in spite of himself—he wasn't as large as Murasakibara or as well-muscled as Aomine, but he had a decent body, above average compared to most amateur dancers. He'd trained for more than half his lifetime, after all, and though stamina was not his forte, his lithe form could be considered a selling point.

"Okay, you can put your shirt back on," Riko finally said, scratching down something on her clipboard. "I want to see your basics. Why don't... why don't you do a routine for us?" She paused from her writing, glancing at Kuroko from head to toe again. "You can do whatever choreography you'd like. Do you have soundtracks you prefer?"

"No," Kuroko said, and wondered if it would be okay to take off his glasses. It wouldn't be that easy to recognize him; despite being a regular member of Teiko, he stayed out of the spotlight and all photos taken of him were from a good distance away. There were millions of people in Japan, and there had to be one or two that resembled him. "But I'd like to listen to it first."

"Izuki," Riko said authoritatively, and Izuki nodded, opening the cabinet again and digging through the towels. There was a DVD player under it that Kuroko hadn't noticed, the green LED on the monitor reading _Soundtrack 3_. Izuki clicked a few buttons, before backing away, looking expectantly at Kuroko.

There was a crackling sound, before a low violin solo began to play. It sounded oddly familiar, although it was fairly easy to find the rhythm, a steady, constant beat pulsing through his head as he listened to it.

"This is from Fujimaki's _Basuke_ ," Riko explained, and suddenly Kuroko realized where he'd heard it from. _Basuke_ was a contemporary piece in four acts that had been fairly popular a few years ago, and was the only Japanese ballet that had ever achieved international recognition and therefore Akashi's grudging respect. It was notorious for the immense number of male dancers it featured, having only three female roles throughout the entire production. "This song in particular is called _Light and Shadow_. It takes place at the climax of Act I, where the characters Kage and Hikari finally agree to settle their differences and work together to defeat the five Miracles."

Almost in perfect synchronization with her words, the solo ended and the room erupted into music. The rhythm was a lot faster now, the violins playing sharp staccatos, the piano producing a seemingly endless tangent of notes, and the occasional ring of a triangle sounding out every few seconds or so. There were a few odd beats here and there that Kuroko tried to get the feel of, and eventually the entire score was thoroughly engrained into his mind.

He tried to imagine two men standing on the stage, and the scene played out in his mind just like that: there would be a turn here, or a leap here, or even a minute pause here or there for emphasis. Maybe there would be a few acrobatic moves, too, just to entrance the audience. There was no telling with modern ballet; the latest fad in the international ballet composer community seemed to be making new shows as unexpected as possible.

And then suddenly, just as quickly, the din ended, and there was an eerie flute sound that lingered for a few seconds before fading away to the sound of chimes. It had a nostalgic tone to it, but there was also something that sounded hopeful, ready to turn away from the past and to the future. Kuroko could already see what would happen next: one man would have his leg high in the air in an arabesque, his fingers outstretched towards the other, and then they would do simultaneous turns in the air until they ended simultaneously, legs in fifth position and hands raised up as if praying.

"Was that enough?" Riko said, and Kuroko blinked, surprised at how engrossed he had become in the music. It was good, he allowed, but it wasn't if he hadn't heard better. "Or do you need another play?"

"One is fine," Kuroko said, brushing off her subtle dismissal. It wouldn't be the first time that somebody had underestimated him. He was unusually slim in the ballet community, lean and short, and there was something about him that gave off a delicate and young impression. Kagemachi's glasses and coloring gave him a slight advantage when it came to looking mature, but it came at the cost of being thought of as a little dull in the head.

"Alright then," Riko said, a little doubtfully. She looked at him, scrutinizing him more carefully, but her expression remained unconvinced. "Alright, then," she repeated, and stalked across the room to join Izuki.

Kuroko walked to the center of the room, positioning his feet into first position and raising both hands into the air. A few seconds later, the violin began playing again, the sound filling the entire room. He allowed a few seconds of stillness, closing his eyes and enjoying the sweet melody that filled his mind.

And then he _danced._

.

.

.

There was a long moment after he finished, slightly sweaty and cheeks painted a crimson red.

"Incredible," Riko finally said, breaking the silence, and there was a considering tone to her voice as she eyed him. She walked closer to him, finally resting a friendly hand on his shoulder. "If I didn't know better, I would think you were a professional. That technique you used when you vanished out of sight like that—what do you call it?"

"Misdirection," Kuroko said, his mind still slightly euphoric from the dance. He could hardly remember what moves he had made, only the desperate want to move and break free of the limitations of his body. He hadn't felt that way in ballet for a long time, he realized—Akashi's routines were constricting and no longer as fun as they had been so many years ago. "I have a naturally low presence, and my teacher—the acquaintance—he taught how to use it to my advantage on the stage."

Izuki butted in between the two of them, smiling cheerfully. "That was _amazing_ , Kagemachi-san! You should have told me earlier you could dance like that, it would have made all of these dramatics pointeless."

Kuroko blinked, only realizing the pun a second later. Riko groaned, a long suffering sound as she slapped a hand first to her face and then over Izuki's mouth.

"I have to apologize for the idiot," Riko explained, suddenly much more informal than she had been before. "But Kagemachi-san, I think it's clear from what you've shown us that you're an amazing dancer." She paused, and then looked at him with so much trust and confidence that Kuroko immediately felt guilty for the imminent betrayal he would cause her later. "Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow at ten o'clock sharp."

"Thank you, Riko-san," Kuroko said as sincerely as he could force himself to, and forced a plastic smile on his face.

She didn't notice.

* * *

.

Kagemachi Tetsunosuke (影待 テツのすけ) :: The Kage (影) in Kagemachi is the kanji for the word shadow, similar to how the Kuro (黑) in Kuroko means black. The Tetsu (テツ) in Tetsunosuke, similarly, is equivalent to the Tetsu in Tetsuya. I believe that Akashi would be the type of person to twist around names like this for his own amusement.

"Like the Shinsengumi?" :: Izumi is referring to Ichimura Tetsunosuke, a member of the Shinsengumi and a famous carrier of the name. Some people hold the belief that he was a fictional character.

* * *

.

.

.

I am not and nor do I claim to be an expert at ballet. Many terms in the fanfiction have been abused.


End file.
